Dare
by auroralmelody
Summary: Davros found a better way to win a victory over the Doctor - his friends. But will he succeed? AU/Alternate ending for Season 9's The Magician's Apprentice. Twissy with drama and action, as per usual. Snakes and more drama. Oh, and drama. Angst. You get the idea. Fluff. Torture/Blood too.


"Me."

There was shuffling, a sliding, mechanical sound as the Daleks shifted uneasily.

"You need me. A Time Lady to show you how it works. With this, and with me, everything can be yours. You can burn it all, forever, and ever, and ever." Missy paused, sensing their discomfort. Well, she could see an easy way out of this. They were going to choose it, of course. It was worthless to stall for time. "Or would you rather just kill me."

All the eye stalks in the room turned to the Supreme Dalek, high and mighty on its raised dais and oh, lo and behold, _three_ lights on his head compared to their measly two.

Out of the corner of her eye, Missy saw Clara's mouth open in a warning a moment too late. Something bit her neck, sharp and needle-like. She spun, eyes widening, hand flying up to the small punctures, coming away with a little blood brushing her fingers.

"Oh," she said weakly, "Well, there's that too."

Missy collapsed to the ground, vision swimming to black faster than she could think. Colony Sarff looked up at Clara, who was simply staring at the limp figure on the floor, mouth hanging open. She always found it difficult to discover someone as intelligent as a Time Lord was not invincible. Missy, while psychopathic, was admittedly a genius, but even she could be deceived, and while Clara was certain the Mistress was stronger than herself, she could be taken down.

* * *

"No!" the Doctor cried, staring at the screen as he watched Missy fall. A teleport from Dalek fire, he would have expected nothing less from her. But snakes, poison, that was simply unfair. "Missy!"

Davros shifted slightly, head rolled on his hand, low, guttural voice reaching forward and cutting the Doctor with his words. Clever Sarff. "You care for her, then. The Mistress, the Master, if my information is reliable. Did she not kill you, kill your friends, murder billions? Is that not what you detest and fight against?" He shook his head minutely, as though disappointed. "You are a hypocrite, Doctor. She has killed more than I have."

The Doctor turned to glare at his...second-oldest enemy. "No one has killed more than you," he said bitterly.

"No," Davros corrected. "No one has killed more than the Daleks."

The Doctor snorted. "Same thing. You are them. Look." He gestured to the still cables in the centre of the room. "You're literally part of their bloodstream."

"You have not answered my question. Why don't you hate her as you hate me?"

The Doctor paused, turning away from Davros, staring at the monitor blankly. "I hate what she does," he muttered. "I despise it. She does it because she likes to play with me."

Davros smiled at the Doctor's back, nearly allowing a chuckle. Like I am, he thought. You fool.

"I stop her because it's wrong," the Doctor continued, pressing his hands against the wall and leaning forward. "But she always looks at me, just right, the same look when we were children. And I can't kill her. I know she cares about me and she knows I care about her." He considered for a moment, selecting his own quote. "'Love...is not an emotion. It is a promise.'"

"And you promised a murderer."

"Why am I telling you this?"

"You're stalling for time, of course."

The Doctor nodded. "What are you going to do to her?"

"Which 'her'?" Davros asked innocently.

The Doctor scowled, brows furrowing. "Both of them." He glanced back at the screen and suddenly there were snakes everywhere, writhing around Clara, holding her still as she tried to fight. Davros could sense his anxiousness, his fury, his growing terror as she was immersed, and the largest, peach-white snake slithered forward, jaws opening wide.

"No!" the Doctor shouted again, slamming his hands against the wall again. "No! Call them off!" And the Doctor was on his knees, hands folded. "Save Clara. Please, save Clara. Please!"

He looked distraught, horrified, begging for his friend's life. Taking his time, Davros flicked a switch on his chair, appearing onscreen to the snake about to strike on the screaming girl. "Sedative, not a killing blow," he ordered, almost sounding bored. The snake nodded, bent down more delicately, and nipped her neck. Instantly, the girl relaxed, head falling back, not resisting any more, and the Doctor sighed in relief.

"Thank you," he said softly. "Thank you." He was trembling slightly. The Doctor closed his eyes and breathed, trying to calm himself. "And Missy? Was she killed?"

"What would be the point in killing her? She'd only regenerate."

"Why didn't you kill Clara?"

"Because she can die much more slowly."

The Doctor's breath caught. "Why don't you kill me?"

"Same to you."

"Because there's a part of me," the Doctor said, lowering his eyes, "that remembers when you were a child."

Davros snorted. "I don't kill you because I wish to see you as an adult."

"How do you mean?"

"When you are like me."

" _Never._ "

There was such force in the single word, Davros almost believed it. "Would you kill all the Daleks, then? In a single moment?"

Checkmate. The Doctor could not admit he wanted to, nor lie and say he didn't. "I've had the chance before," he said softly.

"Yes."

"I...Yes. I would. One day. When...When I am ready to grow up."

"I am eager for that day."

The Doctor laughed bitterly. "I'm not."

"But when you do, you will be glad for it."

"I will regret not doing it before and that will destroy me." He blinked. "I would become like you."

"Yes," Davros agreed.

"Growing up," the Doctor said, reaching for his sunglasses on the table, "sucks."

* * *

Missy woke suddenly and jerked, this time surprised to find her hands held by actual chains, her vortex manipulator, brooch, and remote confiscated. Well then. This was going to be tricky, but -

Ah.

No, Colony Sarff had actually confiscated everything of current use, and Missy couldn't reach any of her weapons that were on her own person, which had been purposely left to tease her, she imagined. She glanced down at the metal of her chains and was surprised to find in the reflective surface that even her paralyzing lipstick (oh, what a classic) had been wiped away as well, not that it would be particularly effective – nor did she want to use it - against an army of snakes. But it proved a point.

"Your friend awakens, Doctor." Davros commented, pulling a small switch with a decrepit hand. The screen flicked to an overhead camera view of the Mistress' cell.

The Doctor looked afraid.

* * *

The door slid open as Missy, dignified, folded her legs neatly underneath her. She was breathing quickly, her heartrates almost double. Trapped, the Doctor elsewhere, only herself and cold metal and were they going to torture her? Probably. Yes, definitely. Missy bit her lip and carefully shielded her mind with precision. These were techniques she had learned on Gallifrey, in much the same situation, though that had gone on for much, much longer. She had experience.

"Here to torture me then?" she asked pleasantly, fighting to keep fear from her voice. It was all too similar to years she didn't want to remember.

"We will take your life force."

"Well that's lovely, dear. Get on with it then, I've got a date to catch as soon as I get out of here." She batted her eyelashes flirtily at the camera she'd spied in the corner. She had no idea if the Doctor would catch it, but she actually blinked in the Gallifreyan equivalent of Morse.

 _Help,_ Missy said, repeating it in the Earth version and Villix as well.

The Doctor caught on immediately, much to his credit. He was again impressed by how well she was hiding her fear to Sarff. She actually turned to face the snake-man, face set, braver than he'd ever be, only now the Doctor knew that she had no confidence she could escape herself. She needed him this time.

Suddenly Sarff unraveled, cloak falling to the floor, snakes spreading across her. He could see as Missy shivered, stilling as they slithered to her hands, wrapping around them in double bonds, long chains fusing to each other seamlessly and changing on her skin to rubbery and dry. She didn't bother to struggle. They all knew it was impossible.

A limited morphling, Missy could not help but note. Genetically created, like the Daleks.

"Regeneration." Voices came from everywhere, the snakes around her, and the Time Lady inhaled sharply, shakily, visibly.

"Sorry, what was that? Bit of a lisp you've got there."

Stalling for time. She'd heard them perfectly clearly the first time.

"Regeneration energy."

A new voice rang from above, one she instinctively knew as Davros'. "Your friend the Mistress may survive to kill another day, Doctor."

"What do you mean?" His voice was panicked, trying to control the situation and his emotions but struggling.

"But perhaps she'll only have this life to live."

"He means he'll take my regeneration energy," Missy breathed, catching on.

"She has the energy of a nuclear power plant in her." Missy was quickly tiring of the rasping voice. "The energy will save the Daleks."

"If you need the energy so badly, why don't you build a _nuclear power plant?_ " Missy drew her eyes scornfully around the room, looking for a way out.

"Regeneration has a healing, rejuvenating property that I am sorry to say simply cannot be replicated by deadly radiation."

"People have been killed by standing too close to a Time Lord when they regenerate," the Doctor said over the speaker.

"Well, of course. It is still energy. It depends how you use it." Davros addressed Missy. "We can tear you apart to get it, or you can simply give it. Which is it, then?"

"Knowing her, she's probably masochistic," the Doctor muttered, barely audible. Terrified.

"I know you aren't, Doctor. Schadenfreude isn't your strong suit. Sarff, you may begin."

* * *

The Doctor rounded on Davros decisively, anger animating his eyebrows. His fists clenched. "Don't you _dare_. Don't you touch her! I will – I will -"

"Kill me?"

"Yes!"

"Why should I stop, since we both know you're bluffing?"

"I'm not sure I am bluffing this time."

"The Doctor lies."

He paused, thinking quickly. "I'll give you my regeneration energy," the Time Lord said at last. "Take it. All of it. I was given a whole new cycle – you'll get much more from me. She is on her...I don't know what regeneration."

"Doctor, this will strengthen the Daleks, it will strengthen me. But I'll be destroying someone you didn't want to admit you cared about, and that is yet another victory I will earn."

The Doctor stared at him. "Why have I ever let you live?"

"Compassion, Doctor."

"Yes." The Doctor turned away, running a hand through silver curls. If Davros was not showing Clara, then there was probably little danger to her. But Missy...

He had been pretty certain that Davros would take his lives. He'd lived too long. But he hadn't anticipated the Mistress. He knew what would happen to the sewers of this place. They'd collapse and the city would fall. But now it was Missy on the line and not him, and he couldn't go through with it.

"Compassion will kill her." Davros leaned forward slightly. "Let me hear you say it, just this once. Compassion. Is. _Wrong._ "

And maybe, just maybe, his compassion for the Mistress was going to kill them all.

* * *

A single little snake slipped down Missy's arm, curling up on her hand and staring at her with blank eyes. She recognized the species it imitated. An Arderys one, deadly poison in its unassuming little jaws. It could kill her with a full dose of its poison. Its little tongue flicked out and Missy found she could not actually move her hands; the snake cables were taut and more restrictive than the metal, not allowing her the tiniest flick of the wrist that could save her life, direct a deadly bite away from a slim vein...

Missy could only watch, dreading, as the little snake simply drew a tiny scratch in her skin, enough for the slightest dab of blood to rise, and Missy felt cold terror course through her.

The snake grew suddenly into a long, thrashing serpent, and darkness swathed the room. It curled around her, and Missy's breath caught, staring into its eyes, dark slits inset in wide gold. It lunged.

Fangs sank into her flesh, tearing her jacket like paper, crushing every bone in their path with ease. Agony was instant. Missy could immediately feel her blood slick on her palms, her arms, her face, wrapped tightly in the snake's coils and burning, darkness swamping her vision. The pain didn't end – somehow, her hearts pounded still, sending her life from the wounds. _I'm going to die,_ she realised, the only conscious thought she could manage, the rush of her own blood throbbing the only sound she could hear. _My dear Doctor. I'm going to die._

It only took three seconds for the Time Lady to begin to scream.

* * *

The Doctor darted to Davros' chair, studying the console, shoving the wrinkled hand away, searching for the littlest control to stop this. On the screen, Missy had been sitting, apparently calmly, and a tiny snake had bitten her. And she was already curled up, thrashing, screaming, in such a state of terror he could feel it across the entire metal compound through normally light psychic signals. He tried to block it out, but the simple fear in her voice was enough to make him ready to destroy the planet.

She was starting to glow, he realized. Already. Her hands were shaking, golden dust gathering like moths to a flame. It had to be poison, something destroying her with such a fervor that it was impossible to contain the pain.

"What are you doing to her?" he shouted.

Davros casually adjusted the volume so that he could speak over the din. "A strong hallucinogen activates certain parts in her brain, giving her a shot of pure terror. The brain's only response is to reasonably create a scenario to make the danger visible in a hallucination, and the poison attacks pain nerves, giving the exact sensation of burning and tearing flesh. The hallucinogen itself is actually quite harmless aside from that, but her body is reacting to what she is seeing and feeling, not reality. So she will regenerate, in perfect health."

"That's horrific," the Doctor said weakly. He snatched his confession dial from a small tray of items that had been confiscated from him.

"And brilliant, too."

The only sound that could be heard was the Time Lady's cries from the speakers.

"Get out of the chair," The Doctor commanded, fury in his eyes like Davros had never seen.

"I cannot leave this chamber. It sustains me."

"I said, get _out of the chair!_ " The Doctor ripped at the cables, tucking his arms beneath his enemy's shoulders and heaved upward, throwing him to the ground, and climbed in. "See ya later, alligator," he muttered, flicking a control forward.

The scooty-chair was quick, thankfully. The Doctor knew that the second he stepped into the corridor he may be fair game to a Dalek, and while the Daleks respected their creator, he doubted they wouldn't try to kill him occasionally. Paranoid genius with a race of trigger-happy tanks. So the Doctor screeched (well, more slid) around the corner, glancing down at a map of the compound on a small screen on the left chair arm. Someone, probably Davros due to the lack of imagination the Daleks had, had named a few rooms sarcastically: 'Guest Rooms'. Prison cells and torture chambers – Daleks did not have guests.

Speaking of which, a Dalek meandered around the corner.

"Renegade Time Lord!" it shrieked. "Exterminate!" The Doctor ignored it, wincing at the bright flash of light when the bolts of energy hit the chair's forcefield. He continued around the corner.

"Gotta go, sorry," he called behind him, not sorry at all.

"Explain! Explain! Where is the creator! Find Davros! Assist! Asssiiiiiiiiiii-!" it hollered, suddenly cutting off. The Doctor turned to look. It seemed blank, suddenly dead, eyestalk lifeless. And then golden dust began to rise from it.

"No, no nono no no!"

The doors were shut. The Doctor whipped out his sunglasses, donning them, and instantaneously the keypad activated and the first door slipped open. The Doctor clambered out of the chair and ran in.

"Doctor!" a familiar voice said, pleased to see him.

"Clara," he said, voice cracking, touching a button on the far wall, unsealing her handcuffs. "Can you stand?"

"Yeah," his friend replied, rubbing her wrists and expecting the Doctor to help her up unnecessarily like he usually did. "You alright?" He was pale, ashen-faced and brows creased in worry. Instead of responding, he ran from the room, leaving the schoolteacher bewildered. Where was he going so quickly? And a moment later, as she stood up, Clara heard the screams. Female, terrified, and a hundred percent Missy, interluded with sobbing. And it sounded genuine.

The Doctor crashed into the room, wild eyes locking on a set of items taken from Missy on a table. Hand seizing her device, the Doctor held down the button and swept its disintegrating beam across the golden cable snakes above her head that restrained her. Out of habit he pocketed the machine.

She looked worse in real life, lashing out furiously, pain in her voice. The corpses of the reptiles collapsed around her, glowing as he cut them. A large remainder of the energy flickered up the cables into the ceiling. The Doctor breathed sharply, crouching by Missy, the energy dissipating.

She was now curled up on her side and trembling, limp, hands clutched to her stomach, apparently believing herself to be bleeding out and unable to move, face drawn. She looked so small and pathetic now, regeneration energy still bright on her hands.

"Doctor," she whispered, but it was not because she knew he was there. A plea for him. It stung to think that maybe this was a repetition of her last death. Had the Time Lords tortured her like this?

"Missy," the Doctor said, fighting to keep his voice calm as he kneeled over her and gently stroked her hair, brushing it out of her face, trying not to scare her further. He reached over her body and touched one of the creatures on the ground, absorbing the residual energy from the chain that they were. Missy's life. His hearts raced as the energy filled him and the snakes cooled. "Listen, listen to me. The poison was a hallucinogen. It attacked your nervous system and it tricked your mind into thinking you're dying, and your brain made images up to explain it. It's just me. I'm here. It's okay."

Explaining the science behind it brought her back, gave her a firm ground in reason. The golden glow receded, fading from her hands. No changes or damage done physically, but the regeneration energy was gone. Hesitating, the Doctor reached out mentally and held her in psychic embrace as she withdrew and recovered, retreating into herself.

He sensed her shock and jolt of fear as she sensed his presence around her, throwing up the strongest defences she could around her mind. There was a still moment, in which the Doctor realised that the Master's shields – normally so much stronger than his own – were weak enough that he could have broken them if he really wanted to, and he knew that she knew it too. Realising he wasn't a threat, she relaxed slightly.

They jolted into reality, Missy lunging forward and surging upwards into the Doctor's arms with staggering force. He fell back a bit but wrapped his arms around her as her mind curiously washed over his, fear and anguish coursing through it. Whatever she had just endured had clearly shaken her badly.

"Hush," he said softly. "Are you alright?" The Doctor could feel her shaking uncontrollably and her muscles slack with weakness. There was a stab of psychic frustration from her as she discovered that as well.

"This reminds me of the days after my eighth birthday," she murmured into his shoulder, breathing heavy, shuddering breaths.

Nostalgia. He took it uneasily as a good sign that at least her memory seemed undamaged. "Yes," he said. "When the noise started but you could only tell me you couldn't bear it. I didn't know."

Tentatively Missy reached her arms around his back. The facility rumbled. "We have to go."

"Yeah." The Doctor glanced behind him, then gently pushed her away from him so that he could kiss her softly. "Can you stand?" he asked, pulling away, embarrassed, trying to be tender but also impress the intensity of the situation on her. She smiled for a half-second as he attempted to lift her to her feet.

Missy stumbled into him. "No," she gasped. "Apparently. That's new. Never not been able to walk before. Well, not strictly true, but unnerving nonetheless." She stared up over his shoulder with a passive glare at Clara, who had appeared in the doorway a few moments ago and was standing, looking amused. There was a flash of concern on her face at the state of the Time Lady, followed by confusion and annoyance at herself for it, which Missy delighted in. Her eyes narrowed. Clara had better not bring up this whole 'not sensing the snake man' thing and the 'unable to walk' business.

The Doctor turned, supporting Missy in his arms, practically dragging her towards the door. As he reached it, it was clear he couldn't keep it up for long, especially with the now frequent crashes in the ground, and Clara looked far from helpful, so the Doctor simply took the easy way out and whisked the Time Lady off her feet, cradling her in his arms after a startled 'oi!' had run its course.

"That's better," he said, moving much more quickly and followed by a still-very-confused brunette human. They reached the main room as the Daleks woke up. "Where was the TARDIS – about here?"

He stood in the spot as the Daleks awoke. "What is happening?" the Supreme Dalek yelled. "Explain! Explain!"

"Don't play with fire!" The Doctor called back.

"You will assist or be exterminated!"

"Oh. Shame. Go on then, exterminate away!"

The Daleks swung their guns towards them and fired as a ceiling beam crashed only a few metres away. To Clara's (and the Daleks') surprise, there was only a flash of white.

"Oops, sorry. TARDIS forcefield still here."

"The TARDIS has been destroyed!" A Dalek exclaimed (as close as an exclamation for a Dalek: slightly louder than usual.)

"Nonsense, it's simply redistributed itself for a moment. The Hostile Action Dispersal System. A quick burst from my sonic and..."

"Doctor, you don't have your sonic. You gave it up."

"Nah! I'm over screwdrivers, they ruin the line of your jacket. Nowadays..." He reached with difficulty around the body in his arms, unable to quite reach his jacket, frowning as his dramatic reveal was dampened by the struggle. Missy raised her hand and plucked a pair of sunglasses from his inside pocket and placed them on his face for him, a cheeky smile dancing on her lips. The Doctor grinned at her, then to Clara. "...I'm all about _wearable technology_."

She stared at him. "No. No? Seriously?"

Missy winked at Clara and tapped a ridge at the top of the glasses for him. They made a whirring noise.

"What is happening?" the Supreme Dalek shot back from the rubble, eyestalk and gun waving frantically.

"Same old, same old! I travel with _friends!_ "

Across the room, scattered blue dust flew towards them, assembling into a TARDIS shape around the grinning Doctor, his best enemy, and his companion.

* * *

The TARDIS interior materialized around them. The Doctor set Missy on her feet, clutching her against his chest as he pulled a lever to throw them into the time vortex. He glanced at the monitors to confirm, then dedicated his attention to assisting his friend up the short stairs and settling her onto a large, plush chair. She looked annoyed at this lack of dignity, tired lines across her face. The Doctor brushed a loose strand of hair away from her cheek and patted her shoulder, standing. Their eyes locked for a moment. Each of them had suffered today.

The Doctor broke the gaze and turned, skipping down the stairs to check on Clara.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly.

"Fine, I think." She gave a sideward look up at the Time Lady, curled sideways away from them in the chair, face turning to observe them passively for a moment before her eyes closed and her head dropped to her arm. "What happened?" Clara said in a hushed whisper. "I was unconscious for most of it."

The Doctor looked up at Missy as well, touching Clara's arm and leading her to the other side of the console room. "Davros took some of her regeneration energy," he said quietly. "To rebuild the Daleks. They're stronger now and Missy doesn't have a full set of lives left. However many she had before, she has fewer."

"So….Bad. Although to be fair I'm not keen on her being around for more lives than she needs to be."

"Listen, Clara, I know, I know what you're feeling, but if she hadn't come to you to find me, I would be dead right now. If it weren't for her, you'd have never met me."

Clara stared at him, then nodded. "Point," she sighed. "Doesn't mean I have to like her." The Doctor smiled a little, then reached out and touched a button on the console, his little keybind for Clara's house. "You know she'll never be good. Right, Doctor?"

He shook his head. "Never." There was little more than slight bitterness in his voice, and Clara heard his age in him more than she ever had before, a resigned note that he had had centuries to accept the fact she'd stated. There was regret and anger in there too, along with the slightest hint of affection, directed at his best enemy, who was being surprisingly quiet. Clara looked over anxiously to check that she hadn't moved, just in case, which she hadn't.

"She's being very quiet," Clara said, voicing her concerns, though they were more for her own safety than the health of Missy. She leaned against the console, crossing her arms and observing as the Doctor dashed up the steps before slowing, approaching the only other Time Lord (Lady) in existence like she was a dangerous, injured animal. Which, Clara reflected, she was.

"I absorbed some of your regeneration energy," he said to her, shaking his hands a bit, causing them to glow, and took Missy's hands in his. She was watching him with tired eyes as the light swirled, shared between them like an atomic bond. Missy breathed it in, slowly seeming to awaken from it, ice-blue focus sharpening, straightening in the chair.

Missy simply stared down at her hands with a soft sigh of relief, feeling the energy burn within her, settling into place. The Doctor really had rescued quite a lot, hadn't he? Impressive he could contain this much, plus his own with his new regeneration set.

Wait.

Perhaps this was _too_ much.

Missy tilted her head up at the Doctor, studying him. His eyes were gentle, regarding her with so much kindness that it burned. The same look he'd given her when she was dying in his arms, so very long ago. That he would do almost anything to save her, despite everything she did.

Realisation struck hard.

The Mistress launched away from him, pressing herself into the couch, staring at him. "Stop," she said, anger rising in her voice. "You idiot! You absolute fool!" She struggled to rip her hands from his grip but it were unbreaking. He smiled, strained.

"It's okay. The energy should settle soon."

He was giving her his _own_ lives.

Missy struggled further, trying to wriggle out of this. He was killing himself. He would not have his full set any longer. Twelve lives, torn away and into her. " _Stop it!_ "

* * *

Clara watched the two of them for a full minute and a half, just beginning to get bored of examining how they looked at each other, when the Time Lady threw herself back into the chair and stared at the Doctor, eyes wide.

"Stop!" Missy snarled. "You idiot! You absolute _fool!_ " She looked like she was trying to get away from the Doctor, but Clara could not fathom why. Was he hurting her? Clara could see fear flicker in her eyes, even from her sideways vantage point, trying to run from the Doctor as though he were injecting her veins with poison.

The Doctor didn't hurt people.

"It's okay. The energy should settle soon."

Clara could see Missy's horrified, silent gasp, and she was struggling even more. The Doctor pressed her wrists to the arms of the chair. "Stop it!"

"Missy, it's alright. It's not going to hurt you, I promise."

He was restraining her fully at this point, and Clara was beginning to get concerned. Not particularly about Missy, because she didn't really care, but more about the Doctor, because she was surprised to find he wasn't stopping immediately and apologizing several thousand times for whatever it was he was doing to upset his friend, his...? Clara didn't know what word to describe Missy to the Doctor, but she was fairly certain that she had seen the Doctor kiss her for a third time right here on Skaro as she'd walked in. Now, after that, this was strange behavior for him. "Doctor?" she asked cautiously.

The Mistress tore her eyes away from the Doctor, suddenly remembering Clara's presence. There was terror in her eyes, like there had been when she had realized what this planet truly was. The same desperation as in the graveyard. "Get him away from me," she pleaded. Pleaded? Something was wrong. Definitely. Clara started forward.

The Doctor glanced towards her nonchalantly. "It's fine, Clara. She's overreacting to the energy."

Missy clenched her teeth. "He's giving me his _own_ regeneration energy," she hissed. "I can't stop it." She rolled forward and dropped to her knees, twisting her glowing hands palm up in the Doctor's. "Stop. Theta. _Don't make me hurt you._ "

"You'll thank me when you're not in such a sentimental regeneration," he told her, not letting go, but apparently taking her threat seriously, as he edged backwards slightly.

Clara decided to act, dashing forward, wrapping her arms around the Doctor and yanking him ferociously. He didn't move, to her surprise, but it distracted him for a moment, and it was enough for Missy. She twisted herself in his hands and aimed a strong kick to the side of his knees, sending him crashing to the ground. Clara instinctively let go, then managed to trip on him, stumbling to regain her balance.

There was a few seconds of pause while everybody caught their breath. Unsurprisingly, Missy was the first one to move. She stood slowly behind Clara and adjusted her collar. The Doctor groaned and hauled himself into a half-sitting position from the bookcase.

"Doctor," Missy said in a low, authoritative voice. He looked up at her, sudden fear in his eyes. He knew how angry she was. He could feel it. It radiated off of her in waves, smothering everything else. "How many lives?"

"Ah...well, you know, regeneration..." He ran a hand over his face. "It, it isn't really an exact amount of en-"

Missy advanced a few steps threateningly. Clara stepped back, intimidated. "Best estimate. _Now._ "

"...Two," he said weakly.

She narrowed her eyes.

"...Three."

Missy's scathing glare did not relent, and Clara was glad to not be on the receiving end of it.

"...Four," he admitted finally.

"Four?!" Clara exclaimed. "You gave four of your own lives to _Missy?_ "

Missy, too, looked enraged, and Clara was only just beginning to question why. Hadn't she just been given four extra lives? The Time Lady stepped forward again, then again, darting in quick steps up close to him, grasping his collar in her fist and dragging him to his feet, backing him into the bookcase. "You idiot," she snarled, slapping him hard in the face.

The Doctor stumbled with the force, flinching back from her.

Why was it that every time he showed someone he cared by giving them his life they only seemed angry, yet when River did it to him no one objected?

 _Why does everyone think that I should live?_

* * *

Even Clara, as mentally unattuned to psychic transmissions as she was, had heard the thought clearly as though he'd said it aloud.

The Doctor blinked, looking uneasily at Missy. Her harsh features were placed in blatant surprise.

"Because you are the -" Clara began.

"Hush, hush hush hush," Missy hushed her. "Doctor," she addressed him, stepping forward and pressing him against the shelf. "You are an absolute idiot."

She leaned forward and kissed him softly for a second.

"Snog box," Clara stage-whispered, unable to contain a quiet chuckle, patting the railing.

"Stop it," the Doctor murmured in return. Hesitantly, he reached up and stroked Missy's hair softly, tracing over the intricately styled locks drawn back in an updo. Surprisingly, Missy allowed this. Clara watched momentarily, then turned away quietly.

She understood that the Doctor and Missy cared for each other, while sometimes it was very difficult to believe and understand how they could, and neither of them was particularly good at showing it at all. She hadn't been sure at first. She figured it had to have something to do with nostalgia because Clara was fairly certain one or both of them would be dead otherwise; the Doctor would have killed Missy for the deaths and pain she'd caused or Missy would kill him for his uselessness to her. She didn't believe what Missy had said, about it not being love. Because the Doctor really did love so many, so much. Trenzalore had shown her that. And the Doctor wasn't particularly useful to Missy – he was interesting, but knowing Missy even slightly she would have gotten bored long ago. So it was Clara's speculation that they were both incredibly lonely, stars in a dark universe, and that they loved each other because they were lost without. But of course as was true with basically Every Domestic Ever, neither of them wanted to admit it because they hated each other too.

Clara knew the Doctor hated to lose people. And she knew one day she would leave too, or die, be with Danny Pink again...and the Doctor would go on in tears. But Missy, well, she was a Time Lord like the Doctor, she could be his friend or enemy and they would always see each other again no matter what happened. Maybe that was better for the Doctor, to have her.

The Doctor looked up over the Mistress's shoulder at Clara, then returned his attention to the woman currently glaring at him fiercely but undeniably fondly,waiting for him to apologize or something. He gripped her shoulders lightly, appreciating her attention for once.

"You called me Theta," he commented.

"I have a good memory."

"Clearly."

There was a short silence.

"Your grip is far less comfortable than most handcuffs," Missy said dryly, raising her eyebrows pointedly at the red marks on her wrists, her fingers laced behind his head. He winced.

"I-I'm sorry for that. But I'm not sorry for the regenerations."

"So you intend to die off sometime and leave me here."

"N-no, that's not -"

"Yes, it is. You like running so the pain won't catch up to you. You always have."

"Are you sure you don't just want me to have a full set so you can kill me when the mood strikes you?"

"Only if you're being annoying." She slid her hands down his shoulders and grabbed his wrists sharply. "Take them back."

"No."

Clara turned around to observe this again, curious to know why Missy wanted the Doctor to have his full set. Her hands glowed slightly. The Doctor sensed it, felt the energy hot against his skin. She had a tough grip – she had restrained him outside St. Paul's, kept his hand on her hip (not that he'd been particularly mindful; his concentration was elsewhere) and held his arm before Osgood had taken the remote – but it was not something inescapable, and the Doctor was determined and focused. He tore her hands away and caught them again before she could replace them, staring down at her eyes fiercely.

"I said _no_."

She blinked, avoiding his eyes. Missy jerked her hands away angrily, but the Doctor held on, raised them, and gently dropped a kiss to her knuckles.

"Why?" she asked, returning to her cold calculation.

"We're not so different."

She eyed him. "I hate you."

"You really don't."

Missy sighed theatrically, pulling her hands out of his grip slowly, wrapping her arms under his jacket, hands sliding to his back, moving close to him and pinning him to the wall.

"Missy -" The Doctor shifted uncomfortably at the lack of space between them, as well as under Clara's gaze, but already she had stepped back, a small smile on her face.

Suddenly, Clara found herself wrapped in her arms, cool metal pressed beside her head. "You're right. I don't hate you. Which is coincidentally why I haven't killed her yet."

The Doctor started, eyes wide. Missy tilted her head in warning.

"Take back the regenerations or your precious Clara dies."

* * *

Clara yelped, elbowing Missy and struggling. "Missy!" Missy's grip tightened and pulled her back, setting her ever so slightly off balance but not allowing ample space for her to move her feet. She was forced to concentrate on staying upright, pressed against the Time Lady's chest, accompanied by the unsettling feeling of the device pressed against the side of her head, which she had retrieved it from the Doctor's jacket. Clara gave up as the Mistress' arm constricted around her throat as she moved, stilling and breathing heavily. "Doctor!"

The Doctor was immediately dangerous again, stance tense and wide, eyebrows furrowed. "Two of them. Missy. Let her go."

"All of them," Missy replied, her voice light and playful, but the aggressive note was not lost on anyone.

"Three."

"Do you really want to risk her life?" His mouth dropped open to send a scathing remark, but nothing came. "You have ten seconds. Ten. Nine."

The Doctor stepped backwards abruptly, hands raised and thrown behind his head. "Fine! All of them. You _win. Don't you dare hurt her._ " His speech had changed, fast-paced, desperate, and his gaze was pleading and wide.

Missy gave him a long, hard stare, frightening him to prove her point, then reached out and grasped his hand, carefully arranging it to be very easy for her to injure his wrist if he were to attempt to pull her away from Clara. Her remote was now crushed against Clara's chest, who locked eyes with the Doctor for a brief moment, only for him to look away as golden dust sparkled around the Time Lords' clasped hands. The energy, like fairy's glow, flowered from Missy's wrist into his. He didn't relinquish his grip.

"Okay. You got what you wanted. Now let. Her. Go."

Missy gave him a withering look, flirtily nuzzling Clara's neck, eerily cold breath behind her ear. "Or?"

He leaned towards her, a near snarl on his face. "I will kill you." The force behind his voice was unignorable, furious like Clara had rarely seen before, and his hand tightened around Missy's.

"And why do you think you will?"

"Because," he responded, seriously giving it thought. "I'll have nothing left to lose."

A shadow crossed Missy's face, the slightest falter of her unreadable expression disclosing herself, a sense of hurt and anger betrayed in the tightening of her lips, the unnatural number of times she blinked. Slowly, her hand dropped from Clara in defeat, setting her free. The companion launched away, spinning and backing away from her assaulter, who didn't bother with a second glance.

"Doctor," she began. "Your _friends -_ "

"Oh, hush, it's nothing personal," Missy snapped, returning to the Doctor, defiant as she held his gaze with ice. He held out his other hand and she unceremoniously dropped the remote into his hand, which he in turn replaced into the breast pocket of his jacket.

"Clara, Clara, I'll try, I'll make it up to you, I promise. I am sorry. I'm so sorry." He only could spare her a darting look, his eyes only for the Time Lady whose wrist he held. Clara raised an eyebrow, working to calm herself. He sighed, addressing Missy. "Can't I do anything right?"

She bristled, snatching her arm back and looking exasperated, her hands on her hips. "Oh, for Rassilon's sake! Just don't be a sentimental _idiot_ all the time. Quit forgetting who I am. It's _me._ The Master, the Mistress, your enemy, you know -" Her hand flipped a golden disc from her pocket and held it up. " _your closest friend._ "

Her words stabbed him and the Doctor looked shocked, flipping his jacket to see if she had pickpocketed anything else, and reached his hand out (again) for the confession dial, glinting orange in the console light. She gave him a vehement glare and dropped it in his hands.

"Of course, if you did kill me, it would only prove me right. And I usually am."

His eyes flicked up to meet hers. "What do you mean?"

Missy's expression darkened. "We're not so different."

The Doctor's breath caught. "Don't."

The air felt taut, alive with unreleased energy. Missy opened her mouth but was cut off by Clara's loud interruption. "God, you two – the testosterone is _sickening!_ "

All eyes were cast to her, and after a long and awkward pause in which no one had anything to say, Missy just chuckled, soft and full of mirth. "Oh, Clara, my Clara!"

The Doctor looked bewildered, glancing at his friend and enemy in turn. Clara, carefully putting as much space between herself and Missy as possible, slipped down the steps to the main console. The Time Lords followed, Missy casually reaching for a lever. The Doctor blocked her with his hand, sliding a different control, glaring down at her disapprovingly. "Don't touch the controls," he ordered.

"Fine." Missy brushed him away and opted to lean against the console instead, watching him as he piloted the machine, moving around the console and occasionally tossing her a sideways glance. Maybe to try to impress her; she noted the slight overconfidence he was clearly faking. "Of course, that button actually dispenses pens two rooms down, if I recall correctly," she commented at his random button-pushing.

"What?" Both Clara and the Doctor turned to look at her, speaking in sync. "You're home," the Doctor added, to Clara.

"You kept needing pens. I don't remember why."

Clara snorted. "Sounds like him." She strode to the door, hand on the lock, looking back at them. "Doctor, this has been...I'll call you when I'm ready to travel, okay?"

"Okay."

"Got to keep up the paycheck."

He nodded.

"Please don't kill each other."

The Doctor and Missy looked at each other. "Noted, Miss Oswald," the Doctor replied, imitating her students almost perfectly. Clara snorted and walked out.

"See ya, lovebirds." She closed the door behind her.

It only took a few seconds for the door to fly open behind her, making her turn around. "Clara! We are not – we have never been – lovebirds!"

"Li-ies!" yelled a female voice from within the TARDIS console room. "You should have seen him when he was fifteen!" The Doctor glared back at her, then returned to Clara.

"Not birds, either!" he added.

Clara Oswald didn't grace that with a response, only a smirk, and ran up the stairs. She could only hope they would be okay together. A moment later, she could hear the TARDIS doors closing abruptly, as though the person who had was vastly unsatisfied with how that conversation had gone.

* * *

The Doctor closed the door, turning to face the woman currently throwing a few switches about.

"First things first," he announced, reaching out and gripping her collar like one would take a cat by the scruff. She stilled and he pulled her back a few steps. "My TARDIS. My controls. Again."

Missy huffed and looked up at him. "But you only go _boring_ places."

"Well, maybe you'll learn that being bored is a luxury you may not have."

She snorted. " _If_ you knew how to fly this thing."

"I'm perfectly capable -"

"No-oo, don't think so. I'm not one of your pets. I'm not fooled by your button-pushing." She wrinkled her nose. "I'm also not going near Deck 7."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," Missy replied innocently. He made a note to check.

"You'd probably invite a, a Cyberman King over for tea and biscuits."

"Well, there goes Sunday's plans out the window. You'll give up trying to enforce this in..." She inspected her nails. "'bout a week, max. Care to bet? Thousand credits."

"Missy!"

"Aw, no gambling on the TARDIS? No fun allowed, Mr. Grinch."

"Oh for the - just don't touch the console!"

"Oooo…" She looked skeptical, eyeing him as though sizing him up. "Five days."

The Doctor slapped the console, irritated. "Personal space!" He stretched his arms out and twirled. "Do you know what that is?"

"Yes. And I firmly choose to ignore yours."

"I could wear a forcefield." Banter. "Huh? What about that?"

"Try it," Missy smirked, coming up with several ideas on the spot to take advantage of that situation.

Splashing paint, or any other opaque liquid at best, would either render a forcefield user blinded (trapped in a very colorful bubble) or cause a potentially very nasty fried-paint smell around them. And if the forcefield were to be deactivated, the paint may cause a horrendous mess. It was a very petty business, but Missy excelled in these lines of thinking.

"I _dare_ you."

The Doctor bit his lip. "Fine. I can't wear a forcefield. I, I could -"

Immediately he found himself with his arms folded around a particularly quick Time Lady, staring up at him innocently with wide blue eyes.

"Nope." The Doctor blinked in confusion, then shoved her away.

"How did you even _do_ that?" he wailed. "I didn't intend to - what-"

"Clearly." She was leaning against the railing now, the picture of perfect dignity.

"I mean, you were over _there_ and now you're over _here -_ "

"Oh, hush, Doctor. Basically I've overruled your rule as impossible to impose, let's move on to the next useless law you insist upon."

The Doctor glared at her. "No weapons." He pulled out Missy's vaporiser and tossed it into a drawer in the side of the TARDIS console and looked up at her expectantly. "You asked to come with me."

"Are you giving me a choice?"

"Was it ever my decision?"

"You invited me."

"You came. Weapons. All of them."

They exchanged tense looks, but Missy reached down and handed him a knife from her boot, an apparently poisoned pin from her hair, and two rings across both her hands.

"I said 'All of them'."

The Mistress stuck out her tongue and yanked off her bracelet as well.

"Probably at least one more?"

Missy hesitated, then sighed, unpinning the brooch from her collar and handing it to the Doctor.

He'd placed all of her dangerous accessories in the drawer, but he just stared down at the little cameo brooch and flipped it over. His fingertips traced the small Gallifreyan script on the metal backing, then looked up at her with some emotion behind his eyes. Respect, maybe. Nostalgia, a sadness and something that showed he cared for her more than he realized or wanted to know.

This pin was equally dangerous as many of the items in the box, but...it was a symbol of their friendship, whatever they had left of it. A token of trust and maybe the only thing they had left from back then. He came to a decision. Probably a bad one that he would regret later (knowing her, any sharp objects were a hazard) but he made it anyway.

"You can keep it," the Doctor told her eventually, pressing it into her palm.

Missy reinstated the pin, then broke the silence that stretched. She swung her arms back and leaned against the railing casually.

"Well, then, dear, where to next?"


End file.
